


if one heart can mend another, only then can we begin

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:17:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4871395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ll be back before you know it.”</p>
<p>As she turns away, she hears him mutter something under his breath – faint but just loud enough to carry across the room and reach her ears. She tenses, drawing in a sharp breath as she glances over her shoulder. The Doctor watches her from where he stands, leaning over the console, fringe falling into his eyes. He looks at her like he’d wanted her to hear it. </p>
<p>She swallows, already knowing she’ll regret asking. “What was that?”</p>
<p>He grits his teeth. “I said maybe you shouldn’t come back.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	if one heart can mend another, only then can we begin

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the rdficathon. 
> 
> Prompt: 
> 
> River and the Doctor attend a Pond (extended) family event while furious with one another – they’re not speaking, which means keeping their story straight to Rory and Amy’s relatives doesn’t go quite according to plan.
> 
> This turned out a bit more angsty than the prompter probably wanted. Oops. I swear I was going to be funny and then this happened instead. I'M SORRY I SUCK. 
> 
> Takes place pretty much directly after The Angels Take Manhattan, give or take a few days. Story title from No Rest For The Wicked by Lykke Li.

She lands the TARDIS with the brakes off and almost makes it all the way to the doors before he catches her. “Running away, then?”

 

River keeps her back to him as she shuts her eyes, silently damning the Old Girl for leading him right to her. “You would know what that looks like, wouldn’t you?”

 

He doesn’t say anything but his wounded silence is answer enough.

 

She sighs, shoulders dropping as she opens her eyes and turns to face him, knapsack hanging from her suddenly limp fingers. Expecting to see him watching her with wide, hurt eyes and pouting mouth turned down and trembling a little, she’s surprised to find him outright glaring instead. This, more than anything else, is what tells her she is making the right decision in leaving. His grief has turned to anger and there is no one and nothing to aim it toward but her. She won’t stay here and be his target. And she won’t stay long enough to turn her words on him either.

 

_You be a good girl and you look after him._

 

She flinches away from her mother’s words and straightens her spine, meeting the Doctor’s stare head on. “It’s just for a little while. Until…” _Until I’ve had time to fall apart without worrying you can hear me._ “I’ll be back soon.”

 

He snorts softly. “Where have I heard that before?”

 

“Probably from your own mouth. But the difference is I have every intention of keeping my promise, sweetie.”

 

It’s his turn to flinch now and she hates herself for it, hates the wounds they inflict without even meaning to. This is why she never stays. Tightening his jaw, the Doctor stares at her from across the console, his eyes burning with something she’s too afraid to identify. They watch one another in tense, wounded silence. Not even the TARDIS makes a sound. River tightens shaking fingers around the strap of her knapsack.

 

Finally, the Doctor looks away and snaps, “Fine. Go.”

 

River frowns, watching him avoid her gaze. “I wasn’t asking permission, Doctor.” He doesn’t answer, his attention already on the console. He fiddles with buttons and levers, inputs new coordinates and does everything he can to look like he’s ignoring her when she can see his whole lanky frame tensed and waiting for her departure. She sighs, resigned to leaving him stewing in his resentment for now. Slipping the strap of her bag over her shoulder, she says, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

As she turns away, she hears him mutter something under his breath, faint but just loud enough to carry across the room and reach her ears. She tenses, drawing in a sharp breath as she glances over her shoulder. The Doctor watches her from where he stands, leaning over the console, fringe falling into his narrowed eyes. He looks at her like he’d wanted her to hear it.

 

She swallows, already knowing she’ll regret asking. “What was that?”

 

He grits his teeth. “I said maybe you shouldn’t come back.”

 

She stares at him, cold horror filling her stomach. It feels like he’d kicked her in the chest but she only licks her lips and nods once. “If that’s what you want.”

 

“What I want? What should it matter what I want? When has it ever mattered?” He snaps, straightening from his slouch against the console. “I have a plan, you have a better one. I want you to travel with me, you refuse. I beg Amy to stay, you tell her to go -”

 

River draws in a breath, recoiling. That’s what this is about. He blames her. Something tightens and squeezes around her hearts, like angry fists. She blinks back the sting in her eyes and says flippantly, “You also wanted an otter pond in our bedroom -”

 

The Doctor slams a fist against the console, making her start. He ignores her, and the protesting groan of the ship around them. “She left because of you, River! We lost her because of _you_!”

 

“You don’t mean that. You’re just upset -”

 

“Of course I’m upset,” he snarls. “She’s dead and _you killed her_.”

 

The words ring harshly in her ears, echoing around her like a death knell. It feels a bit like a death – the death of something precious between them. She stares at him and feels it snap, feels it wither and crumble to dust. There’ll be no getting it back. All she can do is smile, soft and hollow, as the Doctor watches her with growing regret, his chest heaving.

 

“I think you’re right,” she says, amazed by the steadiness of her voice. “Maybe I shouldn’t come back.”

 

She turns before giving him the satisfaction of seeing the tears building in her eyes, walking swiftly toward the doors. She hears him stumbling over his own feet as he moves to follow her, hears him running to catch up with a choked, “River, no. Wait -”

 

Bursting through the TARDIS doors and determined to make it into her cottage before he can reach her – if he touches her, she’ll slap him silly and not feel an ounce of guilt for it – River halts to a stop just over the threshold and stares. This is not Luna. This is not her cottage. She swallows hard, taking in the familiar back garden where she spent so many nights and consumed so many bottles of wine with her mother. Where she stargazed with her father and where she and the Doctor and her parents had dinner so often, as a family. It’s packed with people tonight, all of them gathered around the table under the stars. They’re singing.

 

_“Happy birthday dear Amy, happy birthday to you!”_

 

River bites down on her tongue, feels the strap of her knapsack slide down her shoulder and doesn’t stop it from hitting the ground. She can hear Amy laughing. The crowd applauds and as they begin to disperse, she catches a glimpse of her mother. Smiling brightly, leaning over her massive cake, the smoke of her recently extinguished candles still in the air around her. She looks radiant. River feels her throat tighten and blinks hard. Distantly, she’s aware of the Doctor hovering at her shoulder but she doesn’t turn to look at him. She can’t take her eyes off her mother.

 

“Why?” The Doctor asks, and she hears the tremor in his voice. “Why would you bring us here?”

 

“I didn’t,” she snaps. “I was trying to go _home_.”

 

“No,” he says, and his breath washes warm and hesitant against her neck. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

 

The TARDIS.

 

She doesn’t know if she should feel betrayed or grateful.

 

“We should go,” he continues, low and aching. “Now, before they see us.”

 

River bristles, pushing away the hand he slips around her elbow. “I want to see my parents. You’re so eager to get away from me – _you_ go.”

 

“ _I’m_ eager? You’re the one who packed a bloody bag, River -”

 

“River?”

 

Torn between relief and dread, River turns just in time to be greeted with an armful of Amy Pond and a mouthful of ginger hair. She wraps her arms slowly around her mother’s willowy frame and closes her eyes, breathing her in. She smells like champagne and birthday cake and just underneath, the lingering scent of her new fragrance – Petrichor. Feeling her eyes water, River sniffs once and breathes out, “Happy birthday, Mother.”

 

“I’m so glad you made it!” Amy squeals, hugging her tighter for just a moment before she lets go. She steps back with a laugh, still gripping her hands. “Rory kept saying you would but I -” She stops suddenly, her gaze landing on the Doctor. River doesn’t turn to look but the Doctor isn’t nearly as good at hiding the damage as she is and she can only imagine the devastated expression on his face at the moment. She keeps her frozen smile in place and hopes he has the good sense to get it together quickly. Amy looks away from him to River, then back again, before fixing them both with her best I Am The Doctor And I Will Fix This impersonation. “OK, what is it? What’s wrong? Who do we need to save? Damn, I knew I couldn’t have a normal party. _Rory_!”

 

River forces a laugh and squeezes her hands, soft and warm in her own. “Don’t be silly, Mummy. Everything’s fine.” She looks right into her eyes and lies through her teeth. “We’re here to celebrate. Nothing more.”

 

“You called?”

 

Her breath catches. Rory. Strolling up to them with his hands in his pockets and that wonderful, resigned expression on his face. She never even got to say goodbye and now he’s here, right in front of her. He comes up behind Amy and puts his chin on her shoulder, his grin widening when she shrieks and squirms away from him. “Never mind, stupid face. False alarm.”

 

“Well, in that case. Hello.”

 

Rory turns to nod at her and before River can talk herself out of it, she has stepped into his arms and hugged him close. Rory freezes, arms hovering awkwardly at his sides for a moment, and River feels her cheeks flush with embarrassment even as she clings to him.

 

They’d never really gotten the chance to get the hang of the whole father/daughter dynamic. They’re very good at being friends, at confiding in one another and exchanging exasperated looks about the Doctor and occasionally Amy. River never had any trouble loving Rory as both her childhood friend and her father but Rory never quite managed to get past the baby girl he’d lost to see River in her place. Too late now.

 

But this is her last chance to hug her father, her chance to say goodbye.

 

She’d be an idiot not to take it.

 

Slowly, his arms wrap around her in return and when River buries her face against his shoulder and mutters, “Hello Dad,” he doesn’t mention the wobble in her voice. He just tightens his hold around her, his nose brushing her temple.

 

“Alright?” He murmurs.

 

She nods hurriedly, cursing herself for letting her emotions get the best of her. She’d just been mentally scolding the Doctor for the very same thing and look at her, shaking like a leaf and about to fall apart in her father’s arms. She sniffs once and pulls back with a smile entirely too bright to fool anyone. “Sorry we’re late – him indoors was driving.”

 

Behind her, the Doctor doesn’t offer any sputtering protests at the lie. He only shrugs and offers the Ponds a thin, strained smile. Still looking unconvinced, Amy waves her away and says, “We haven’t cut the cake yet so technically you’re not late. Now c’mon Raggedy Man, if you help me I’ll let you lick the icing from the candles.”

 

Burying his grief under a half-hearted veneer of boyish silliness, the Doctor bounces on his heels and reaches out a hand to tap Amy on the nose. “And how old are you now, Amelia Pond? Forty? Fifty?”

 

Amy glowers at him.

 

He blinks. “What? Too young?”

 

Rory hisses through his teeth and pats the Doctor firmly on the shoulder. “I’d stop talking now.”

 

Amy offers him one last glare and a sharp poke in the chest. “No cake for you.”

 

“Oi!” The Doctor gapes after her as she walks swiftly back in the direction of the table loaded with gifts and cake. With one last hesitant glance at River, he turns and stalks away without a word. “What’s wrong with being fifty? Lots of species look very nice at fifty! I bet no one has even noticed those lines around your – ouch!”

 

River breathes out quietly as they disappear together in the crowded back garden, finally allowing herself a moment to relax.

 

“Are you sure everything is all right?”

 

Startled, she glances at Rory and finds him still watching her with concern. She gives him another smile. “Just a little spat, Father dear. We’ll be fine.”

 

Rory glances toward the Doctor, hovering near Amy with a bright, pained smile, and frowns. For a moment, he looks every inch the protective Roman, the man who would have met all her dates at the door with a sword if he’d ever been given the opportunity, and River feels her throat close up all over again.

 

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s stop Amy from shoving his head into the cake.”

 

River smiles and shakes her head. She wants nothing more than to be around her parents right now but not if it means being around the Doctor too. “You go on. I think I’m going to mingle.”

 

Squeezing her arm in understanding, he says, “I’ll save you a piece.”

 

She waves him away and for a while, she manages to hide in the crowded back garden, making small talk with guests and surreptitiously watching her family when they aren’t looking. The Doctor pointedly refuses to look at her but she watches him waver between positively glowing to be with his Ponds again and the very same grief she continues to battle – the horrible knowledge that it will be the last time. She catches him teasing Amy and poking Rory’s nose, grinning brightly all the while, and the moment they’re not looking, he stares at them with undisguised longing, as if they’re already gone and he’s seeing their ghosts. In a way, she supposes he is.

 

After a while, watching them together begins to make her chest ache so she turns away and tries to throw herself into conversations with others, answering questions like _How do you know Amy and Rory?_ or _So what do you do for a living?_ or _Do you think David Cameron has a big forehead because he’s an alien or because the stupid has nowhere else to go and it’s starting to bulge?_ By the time her mother practically shoves the Doctor at her with a scowl, River is almost grateful for the distraction.

 

The Doctor stumbles into her when Amy nudges him and when his hand falls to the small of her back, River can’t help but stiffen. He drops his hand at once, shoving it into his coat pocket as he sneaks a guilty glance at her. She feels his gaze on her but she refuses to look, forcing a smile when Amy throws her arms around both of them and says to the group at large, “Ten quid to whoever can get the Doctor drunk. And the wife’s help doesn’t count.”

 

Aunt Sharon blinks at her. “You’re… the Doctor’s wife?”

 

Amy cringes and mouths _oops_.

 

“I had no idea Amelia’s imaginary friend was married!” Aunt Sharon beams. “How nice. Where did the two of you meet?”

 

“University.”

 

“Spoilers.”

 

They glance at each other, startled and glaring.

 

Aunt Sharon frowned. “Spoilers?”

 

“What the Doctor means to say,” Amy says, glowering at him. “Is that they met in university.”

 

“That’s right,” River agrees, sipping her drink with a smile. “He was my student.”

 

The Doctor sputters. “What? No -”

 

“I knew it was wrong,” River shrugs, ignoring Amy’s heavy sigh and flushed cheeks, and Aunt Sharon’s gaping stare. The bristling anger from their argument and the ache of his words hasn’t faded and it makes her vindictive. She wants to see him squirm. “But I couldn’t resist such a sweet face.”

 

The Doctor glares at her, his cheeks brightly flushed and his jaw clenched. His eyes are hooded as he watches her and she knows she’s succeeded. He’s flustered and embarrassed and more than that, he’s just as angry as she is now. No more of those guilty, kicked puppy glances. He’s outright glaring now. It doesn’t feel quite like the triumph she thought it would as he bites out, “She seduced me. River’s always been a bit of a temptress. I was too young and stupid to run.”

 

River flinches but she doesn’t look away from him, gritting her teeth against the stabbing pain in her chest. He’s very good at finding every single one of her weak spots, every gaping wound, and shoving his fingers into them until she bleeds. She has worried for years that he wished things were different, that maybe he wished he’d run away when he had the chance – before fate trapped him in a relationship he’d never truly made the choice to begin. Now, she supposes, at least she has her answer.

 

She purses her lips tightly together and nods once, and the moment she does, the Doctor widens his eyes and begins, “River -”

 

“You may not be young any more,” she snaps, brushing off the hand he reaches out to touch her. “But you’re still an idiot.”

 

As she stalks away she can hear Amy hissing at the Doctor to fix whatever he’s done and attempting to laugh off the whole thing with Aunt Sharon and her friends. _Such an old married couple._ River makes it halfway up the stairs before her eyes begin to sting. No matter how determined she is to blink away the irrational tears, they blur her vision anyway and by the time she makes it to the guest bedroom she’d long ago claimed as her own, she can barely see.

 

She sinks down onto the bed wipes angrily at the damp corners of her eyes, hating herself for the weakness. An argument with the Doctor, no matter how serious, had never been enough to make her cry before – well, at least not until she was well and truly alone. It must be everything, she thinks, sniffling in annoyance. Losing her parents, taking care of the Doctor, arguing with the Doctor, not crying at all in the days since Manhattan. She’s starting to crack. All the more reason to get as far from her husband as possible before she breaks.

 

Straightening her shoulders, River sniffs once and sets her jaw. She’ll wait a few moments and then she’ll sneak out to the TARDIS. Her vortex manipulator should still be in the knapsack she’d dropped right outside the doors. She’ll get it and be gone before the Doctor realizes she’s even missing. Of course, she won’t get the chance to say goodbye to her parents – again – but perhaps that’s for the best. A clean break. She can hardly risk blubbering all over them in her state anyway.

 

She scoffs at herself, glaring at a spot in the carpet. Pathetic.

 

A soft knock on the door startles her but by now she’s mostly composed and when Rory steps hesitantly inside, she’s dry-eyed and smiling, damage unseen. It doesn’t matter. He’s Rory – her ever-perceptive childhood playmate. He takes one look at her and just knows. With a sigh, he shuts the door quietly behind him and makes his way to the bed, settling onto the edge of it next to her. He reaches for her hand and River lets him take it, lets him pat her knuckles and frown, lets him struggle to find the right thing to say.  

 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and the Doctor or do I have to go ask him?” He tilts his head, offering her a dry smile. “Just be warned, I won’t ask him as nicely.”

 

She wants to laugh, she knows that’s what Rory wants too but it dawns on her that this is the last time she’ll have her father to comfort her and suddenly it isn’t funny at all. She blinks rapidly and swallows, looking away.

 

Rory nods once and pats her hand again. “Right. I’m going to go punch him.”

 

“Dad, no -” She chokes on the bizarre urge to laugh, catching his arm to pull him back. She holds on until she’s sure he isn’t going to go off and search for her husband. “It’s nothing, I told you. Just a little disagreement.”

 

“Is that why you’re hiding in here and he’s spent the entire evening staring at you when you aren’t looking?” Rory scoffs. Elbows on his knees, he stares at the floor and says quietly, “I’m not stupid, River. You two have looked like you’re attending a funeral instead of a birthday party all evening. Even Amy noticed.”

 

She breathes in and feels a sharp, unrelenting pain deep in her chest. “Dad -”

 

He shakes his head, glancing at her with solemn, ancient eyes that stall the words in her throat. “Look, whatever happens, whatever you two are hiding, whatever happens to us -” He holds up a hand when she tries to protest. “We wouldn’t want this for either of you, especially not because of us. You shouldn’t be at each other’s throats, River. You should be helping each other.”

 

“I _am_ helping,” she mumbles, feeling like a chastised child for probably the first time in their entire relationship.

 

“Alright,” he says, straightening from his slouch to elbow her gently. “Is he helping you? Are you letting him?”

 

She shakes her head, lifting her chin. “I don’t need help. I’m fine.”

 

Rory sighs, gesturing at the room they’re currently hiding away in. “Is that what you call this?”

 

River scowls.

 

“There’s no shame in accepting help when you need it, River. You know what your grandfather says?”

 

“Always carry a trowel?”

 

He snorts. “That too. But he also says that sometimes there’s generosity in receiving.” At her raised eyebrow, he sighs. “You know how it makes you feel when you help the Doctor? When he’s upset and you’re the only one who can comfort him? It’s a good feeling, isn’t it? To be needed? To know you can comfort the person you love?”

 

River bites her lip and hunches her shoulders, suddenly very aware of what Rory is trying to tell her. “I suppose so,” she says, thinking of late nights after very bad days, holding the Doctor in her arms, his hot tears against her skin. Stroking her fingers through his hair. Helping him to bed. Listening to him tell her all about Gallifrey with his shaking hand held tight between hers. “Yes.”

 

“Why would you want to deny your husband that feeling?” Rory laces their fingers together and squeezes gently, reproachfully. “Whether you need it or not, you have to be strong enough to let him help anyway. He loves you, River. I doubt he likes feeling helpless where you’re concerned.”

 

She nods silently, struggling to swallow the lump in her throat. “You’re far too good for all of us, Rory Williams.”

 

He scoffs, shaking his head.

 

She nudges him, smiling softly. “I mean it. I know I’m not the daughter you would have asked for but you’re the best father a girl could have.”

 

The last thing she expects is to see Rory’s eyes water but he blinks hurriedly and nods, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Well, thanks.” He swallows. “And you’re right, you know. I wouldn’t have asked for you as a daughter.”

 

River inhales sharply, holding her breath until her lungs start to burn.

 

“Some things are so utterly mad, so beyond our imagining, that we’d never even think to ask for them.” Rory shrugs, watching her with such adoration and pride that River finally exhales and feels all of her insecurities leave with her next breath. “If I’d known to ask for you, I would have.”

 

She doesn’t get to reply and deep down, she’s grateful because she has no idea what she would have said or done, other than throw her arms around him and finally let herself cry. The soft, tentative knock on the door is a relief, even though she knows exactly who it is.

 

Rory glances at her, eyebrows raised. “Ready?”

 

She offers him a watery smile and nods once. “Go on then.”

 

He climbs to his feet, pauses only long enough to kiss the top of her head, and strides for the door. He opens it with a stony expression, eyeing the Doctor like he hasn’t just spent the last few minutes arguing in his favor, and River purses her lips against a smile. When he finally steps aside, the Doctor inches past him into the room with a wary, guilty expression on his face and refuses to look at River at all. Glancing between them, Rory offers a stern, “Talk to each other,” and shuts the door behind him on his way out.

 

“Bossy,” the Doctor mutters.

 

“Roman,” River counters.

 

He snorts, turning to inspect the bookshelves on the far wall. Hands behind his back, he leans in to peer at book titles and inspect knick-knacks. He studies the picture frames and mutters about old trips. He traces his fingertip over a picture of the two of them together at Amy and Rory’s last anniversary party, River sitting on his lap and the Doctor with icing from the cake smeared over his grinning mouth. His shoulders slouch the longer he studies the picture. Finally, he drops his hands and sighs, turning to face her but keeping his gaze firmly on his shoes.

 

“I didn’t mean it.”

 

“Which part?”

 

He swallows. “Any of it. All of it.”

 

“Then why?”

 

He huffs through his nose and runs an agitated hand through his hair, blurting, “Because you’re… frustrating. Hiding the damage and not letting me see when you’re hurt – that’s absolute rubbish, River. Sometimes it’s like I’m the only one in this relationship actually capable of feeling anything. And I know you’re not a robot so that must mean my own wife doesn’t trust me – not when it counts. Not when it matters. Do you have any idea how – it’s _infuriating_. It makes me want to hurt you just to prove you can actually feel something under all that bloody bravado.”

 

River flinches, dropping her gaze to her lap.

 

The Doctor sighs and crosses the room slowly, like a child readying for punishment, and hesitantly sinks down onto the edge of the bed beside her. He scrubs a hand over his cheek and scratches at his chin. “But I didn’t mean it, River. Not what I said about Amy and certainly not that rubbish about running away. It was stupid.” He swallows audibly. “I was stupid.”

 

She risks a glance at him out of the corner of her eye and sees him sitting very still, hands folded in his lap, very pointedly not touching her. With a pang in her chest, she recalls pulling away every single time he has reached out to her in the last few days, certain that one tender brush of his hand would be her undoing. She couldn’t let him see her like that. But in doing so, she’d been denying them both what they desperately needed – each other. With her hearts in her throat, River reaches out a shaking hand and takes his. “You’re forgiven, sweetie. Always.”

 

The Doctor releases a trembling breath and squeezes gratefully, clinging to her fingers like they’ll anchor him somehow. Rory was right. He needs to be needed. “And completely,” he finishes.

 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

 

“I know.”

 

She blinks at him. “You do?”

 

“I know everything about you, River Song.” He taps her nose, smiling. “Doesn’t always mean I understand it.”

 

"Likewise, honey."

 

He licks his lips, taking her hand again. “Are you going to stay?”

 

River hesitates.

 

“Not for good,” he amends quickly, reluctantly. “But for a while?”

 

He sounds so hopeful and once again, Rory’s advice comes back to her. There’s generosity in receiving help. The Doctor needs her to need him and that’s something River can truthfully supply. She’s always needed him, even when she wasn’t willing to admit it. “For a while,” she agrees.

 

The Doctor sniffles and when River finally gathers the courage to look at him, he’s watching her with bright eyes and a red nose, a tentative but hopeful smile on his lips. “Maybe we can have another honeymoon before you go.”

 

The careful suggestion sounds like a question, some small way of making sure they’re OK, still husband and wife. It makes her smile and she nods, feeling that which was broken between them begin the slow process of mending together again. “Maybe, if you’re a good boy.”

 

His cautious smile widens into a relieved grin and she knows he’s as happy as she is to be back on familiar ground. As long as they’re still capable of flirting, things aren’t too dire. The Doctor keeps clutching her hand but his smile fades quickly and he ducks his head, studying the floor again.

 

“I’m grateful, you know – that you told her to go.” River begins to shake her head but he squeezes her fingers again and says, “I mean it. Amy would never have been happy without Rory and I could never condemn Rory to a life without Amy. My Ponds,” he mutters proudly. “They need each other.”

 

She smiles and for a moment it’s enough to know they’re out there, far away and long ago, together. It’s all they ever wanted.

 

“And,” the Doctor continues carefully, scratching his cheek. “I would have done the same if it had been you taken away like that. I would have done anything to get back to you.”

 

River huffs out a soft laugh of disbelief and turns to him, a teasing reply on the tip of her tongue. She fully expects to see him watching her with a smirk but her gaze falls on him and she feels her hearts stutter in her chest. He has never looked more serious or more sure of himself, watching her with hooded, red-rimmed eyes, fringe falling messily over his forehead. He’s tired and hurting but he’s confident and _he really means it_.

 

He’s never said the words before, never specifically said _I love you_ but she’s always known, or at least hoped. But now it’s clear such a declaration isn’t needed – not when he’s looking at her like that, when he’s so certain he would throw himself at a Weeping Angel just to be where she was, decades away from his TARDIS. He would take the slow path if it meant they were still holding hands and it means more than any apology, more than even freely given regeneration energy. It means far more than three little words ever could.

 

Without another thought to spare, River tightens her grip on his hand and uses the other to curl around the back of his neck, hauling him close enough to kiss. Her lips muffle the Doctor’s startled yelp and she opens her mouth to swallow his sigh, encouraged by his enthusiastic hands in her hair. He tastes like birthday cake and underneath there’s the bitter tang of salt but she doesn’t know if he’s crying or she is – perhaps they both are. For once, she doesn’t care.

 

She’d been wrong before. Nothing has been broken between them. Cracked, maybe. Strained under the pressure of the last few days, but not broken. It grows stronger by the moment, with every tear shed and every stroke of his fingertips against her cheek. They are the Doctor and River Song and there is nothing they cannot face together, not even this.

 

They part with panting breaths and flushed faces, grinning tearfully at each other. The Doctor leans forward and kisses the tip of her nose, trailing his mouth over her eyebrows and her cheekbones, one of his hands distractedly petting her curls. River straightens his bowtie and buries her face against his neck, breathing in the scent of him. She’s so caught up in the warm comfort of his embrace that it takes her a moment to register that he’s talking.

 

“- I mean, was that really necessary? Aunt Sharon thinks I shagged my professor. I’m never going to be able to look her in the eye again!”

 

Swallowing her laughter, River lifts her head from his shoulder and takes his face in her hands, snogging him silent. The Doctor huffs against her lips but he doesn’t complain, threading his fingers through her curls and shuddering. He lets her push him back onto the bed, lets her straddle his waist and yank his shirt from his trousers. His only reply is to tug insistently and petulantly at her jacket. She laughs against his pouting mouth, letting go of him only long enough to shed it and toss it aside.

 

In a little while, they’ll go back to the party and cherish their unexpected gift – the chance to say a real goodbye. For now, however, they have a guest room to themselves and a lot of making up to do.

 

Goodbyes are going to have to wait.


End file.
